Father of Mine
by Dib's Kat
Summary: Dib wants his dad to come home for Father's Day. Things don't quite turn out.


A/N: I was listening to the song "Father of Mine" by Everclear. The next thing I knew, I wrote this. Enjoy!

Clutching some change in a tight fist, Dib hopped off the old city bus and onto the sidewalk. He had plans to do something he had not done in a long time - get his dad a card for Father's Day. Normally, he had just tried to accustom himself to being ignored, but it was difficult, especially at times such as parent-teacher conferences. Who's father broadcasts himself on a hovering monitor because he's too busy to come in person?

But this year was different. Even though Professor Membrane had been too busy to go to parent teacher night, Dib wanted to put the past to rest. "This will be the year I make dad realize that I'm not just a little boy. I'm _his_."

Dib stood inside the expanse of the store, and passed aisles filled with children screaming for candy and frustrated parents being run ragged. Before he reached the card section, Dib heard something else.

A voice squealed, "I can walk backwards!" Dib jerked his head up. That voice, so mindless and familiar…

Then a voice that was all too familiar. "Enough! There's no time for stupid! Only time for… not stupid."

Dib wheeled around and hid behind a display of cereal boxes. Zim and GIR stood in the cereal aisle, and Zim stared intently at one box. "Look, GIR. All these little children will do anything to get some of this sugar stuff. Do you know what this means?"

"I like sugar too. I like cookies with sugar and sugar and sugar…"

"It means we can use this to control them. It's so simple and so —"

"Oh, come on, Zim!" Dib, who had been listening to Zim lay out his entire plan to the inattentive GIR, was already fed up with the plan's desperate idiocy. "That's just on tv. No one really likes it. It tastes like sawdust."

Zim scowled. "And of course _you_ know it won't work, Dib-worm."

"Yes, I do. This scheme of yours is beyond hope. I had to take pity on you." Without another word, Dib turned, and crossed the aisle to the card section.

Pouting, Zim kicked the wall of cereal boxes. He wasn't willing to accept Dib's criticism well, or let it end there. For GIR, the sting of defeat was easily forgotten, and he shamelessly tore into a box of the most hyperactivity-inducing cereal he could see. Leaving GIR to his food, Zim crept up behind Dib, who leafed through cards, looking for the right thing. Most of the cards he picked up said things to the effect of loving a father who had always been there when he was needed, and who loved unconditionally. Dib peered over the top of the shelf into the next card aisle, which contained the category "Missing You." _I wonder if I might find something better there._

"And what are you doing?" Zim asked, still arrogant in his downfall. "Something that _will_ work?"

Dib glared down his nose at Zim. "Yes. If you must know, I'm getting something for my dad." Dib shrugged and went back to searching, curious as to why Zim would care.

Zim crossed his arms and laughed. "Pitiful humans," he sighed, with a lack of hope in his voice. "So dependent on each other. Zim needs NO ONE! You can say what you want, but I am going on with Project Cereal. Come on GIR, we have… stuff to do!" For once, GIR obeyed, scooping up box upon box of cereal.

Still frowning, Dib selected a blank card, and quickly headed home. Zim's words played through his head in a loop, although Dib tried to shut out what they were saying. But even then, he couldn't avoid wondering if maybe his dad thought he needed no one, not even his own family.

When he arrived at home, Dib burst in the door. Gaz was feverishly pressing buttons on her Gameslave. "Gaz, is dad here?"

"Kitchen. Now let me finish this level, or you'll be finished."

By then, Dib was already writing on the card. _Happy Father's Day. Dib._ Knowing his dad, there was no time to write anything else. He rounded the corner into the kitchen and almost crashed into his dad, who was coming out.

"Dad! Dad! I have something for you!" Dib waved the card in the air, trying to capture his dad's attention. Professor Membrane, briefcase in hand, was making a beeline for the door, as if he hadn't heard a thing.

"Dad! Look, I have a —"

"Not now, son. I'm booked for the evening. Further breakfast advancements can't wait!"

Unwilling to give up, Dib grasped the bottom of his dad's lab coat desperately. "No! Don't go!" He dug his feet into the carpet, but his weight was not nearly enough to stop his dad from continuing out the door, which he did wordlessly.

Dib fell to his knees and stared at the door. From the other side of the couch, Gaz put her Gameslave down and peered around the couch to see Dib, still in disbelief that his dad left so guiltlessly. She also saw the card, which lay several feet back on the carpet.

"Got him a card, did you?" Gaz asked rhetorically. Dib turned to her and nodded. "Forget it. Look at you. It's pathetic to keep waiting for him to pay attention to you when you know he won't."

Leaping to his feet, Dib spoke defensively. "You're wrong! You don't give him any credit. He loves us."

"No, he loves his work. We're his _roommates_, remember?"

"We're his kids!" Dib's voice was rising, but Gaz was calm. She picked up the card and tore it several times.

"Trust me on this one. He doesn't give a shit about us. You're better off realizing that." Dib gatheredthe pieces of the card in one hand. All Gaz could do was shake her head, unable to understand why Dib would care about someone who never took the time to know him. "I'm getting some pizza," she announced. "That is, if a stupid brother of mine hasn't eaten all of it."

Dib took the pieces of the card up to his room, and set about taping it back together. Not only had Gaz failed to tear it enough to make it a real puzzle, but he had the picture on the front to go by. It was a simple enough picture, a black and white photo of the silhouette of a man and boy sitting side by side on the dock fishing. Dib had no memories of days like that. His memories were of baby sitters and guidance counselors. The last thing his father had actively done for him was something too distant in the past, Dib could not even remember. He gave Dib a name.

Once the front was restored, Dib wanted to add to what he had written. Somehow, nothing more than "Happy Father's Day," seemed too impersonal, like it wasn't quite enough. He wanted something more than that, something to catch his dad's eye, and show him that he had a son who wanted to have the chance to be his son.

"It needs to be something short and sweet that says everything." After giving it some thought, and several scribblings followed by erasures, he grinned to himself. "I know the right thing." He jotted that down neatly, then folded the card in half and wrote "Dad" on the back. Satisfied, Dib left his room to see if his dad was home yet.

Gaz was still on the couch playing her Gameslave, but the house was otherwise empty. If he hadn't known better, he would have asked her if she had seen their father, but her only response would have been something flying at his head. He looked in the kitchen, but still, no one.

Sullenly, Dib placed the card on the kitchen counter by the toaster, and went upstairs to his room. He collapsed on his bed and removed his glasses, reducing the room around him to a blur. "Father's Day, and I don't even get to see him." He sighed. "Not surprising. His roommates will always come second to his work." Dib's eyes stung as he held back tears. Briefly, he wondered why he was so upset; despite being this man's son, Dib barely knew him. Relenting, Dib sighed and let the tears fall. _Zim was right, he realized, finally. Caring does nothing but cause pain._

Professor Membrane came home late that night, and shut the door behind him without so much as a creak. The clock glowed 2:26 AM. "Never too early for breakfast," he muttered to himself. He slid two slices of bread into the toaster. "What's this?" He mumbled without interest as he looked beside the toaster to see white paper peeking out. Crumpling it in his fist, he dropped it into the trash can. "I need to deal with the garbage problem. What this world needs is something to generate new things directly from old things. Now that's an idea!" Already he was lost in his own world of thoughts again.

On the top of the pile of garbage in the can was the crumpled paper card, held together with tape. Slowly, it unfolded with a soft crinkle. Although garbled by the wrinkles in the paper, the message scribbled on it was still clear and indelible:

__

"Happy Father's Day. I love you. Dib"


End file.
